


Stranger Smiles

by RandomTiger, RetroRabbit



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neglectful Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomTiger/pseuds/RandomTiger, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroRabbit/pseuds/RetroRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shinji knew he shouldn't talk to strangers, but no one ever mentioned what to do when strangers talked to him.</p><p>Kaworu knows that the best way to make friends is to talk to them. But just because you can talk to them doesn't mean the hardest part is over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cloud Five

The Froth House was a coffee shop tucked between an antique store and a cottage belonging to an elderly couple whom Shinji Ikari had seen only twice in all the time he'd spent there. It was visited mostly by exhausted college students and never wanted for customers, partly because there was never a lack of exhausted college students but mostly because they served excellent coffee.

Shinji had discovered The Froth House at the tender age of fourteen when he had sought shelter from the rain after missing his bus stop. His first sip of coffee had been bliss followed by a bitterness that had taken a few more cups to get used to. Though he was not a college student, he was exhausted and was thus accepted into the fold, which meant he was allowed a spot at a table near the window where no one bothered him so long as he kept to himself and his music and his book.

Or, rather, that’s what he’d thought it meant, and he had three years personal experience to back it up. The person who invaded his peripheral vision had other ideas, apparently. He heard the muffled sound of someone talking and reluctantly paused his iPod and popped an earbud out. He looked up and found himself unable to look away.

“Can I sit here?” 

A pale hand gestured to the chair across from Shinji, but he hardly registered the motion or the words. He blinked dumbly and tore his eyes away, glancing around the shop instead. It had gotten much busier than usual; all the seats were taken. One girl had even decided to sit on the floor next to a table of rowdy kids in bright colors that Shinji assumed were her friends.

“Yeah,” Shinji said finally, feeling his face flush as he kept his eyes averted. 

“It’s okay,” the boy said as he sat down. “My coloring surprises people even when they see me coming.”

“Sorry,” Shinji muttered, and risked another glance at him. He had his cheek resting in his hand, an easy smile on his lips that grew when he saw Shinji looking. He immediately turned his attention back to his book.

_'"If we're the ones taking the zoo express," Grover said, "we need to hurry."'_

Shinji’s eyes trailed over the words, but his mind remained on the pale haired boy across from him. Should he say something? He wanted to see his eyes again, check that he hadn’t been imagining that they were red like rubies, or roses, or blood. He couldn’t be sure without seeing them again.

_'I didn't like it, but we had no better option. Besides, I’d seen enough of Denver.'_

He continued reading. He liked this book, and felt a sharp surge of resentment towards the peculiar boy for distracting him from it. It disappeared instantly, however, when he realized the boy was speaking to him once more.

“What did you say?” Shinji asked, fingers fiddling nervously with the wire of his earbud.

"I was curious how your day's been. I hope it’s been a good one!"

The words themselves would have been enough to cause him to look up in disbelief, but it was the cheery tone that had Shinji wondering if this was some sort of joke. The other boy waited patiently for his answer, smile never faltering, index finger drawing lazy circles on the tabletop.

_Rubies, then,_ he decided absentmindedly. _Red like rubies._

He considered the question. How had his day been? Fucking terrible. He’d slept through his alarm and had to run to school. While doing so he’d fallen on his face, ripping his pants at the knee in the process. He’d annoyed the only person willing to put up with him by babbling like an idiot while she watched with a blank face until he finally shut his mouth. He failed a test, forgot his homework, and spent lunch in detention. He’d heard whispers and laughter following him through the hall as he finally departed, shoulders hunched and head bowed.

It didn’t matter, though, because he was at The Froth House now and coffee made everything better.

“My day’s been fine,” he said. 

“I’m happy to hear that,” the boy replied, and Shinji couldn’t detect any sarcasm in his voice. “Are you enjoying your book?”

“I was,” Shinji responded immediately. He bit the inside of his cheek, wishing he could take the words back or, at the very least, make them sound less rude. 

The strange boy nodded as though Shinji had told him something worth consideration. “What’s it called?”

“The Lightning Thief,” Shinji answered, and a sharp pain drew his attention to the fact that he was picking at the skin around nails again. He curled his hands into fists and tried to ignore it.

“I haven’t heard of it. What is it about?” the boy asked. Shinji reluctantly slipped his bookmark between the pages and slid the book across the table. The boy read the summary on the back, eyes flitting back and forth, and nodded again, returning it with a pleased smile. “It sounds interesting.”

Shinji nodded, dark hair falling in his eyes, and wondered if this is where the conversation—if this strange, awkward interaction could be called a conversation—would stop. 

“I love music,” the boy sighed after a moment of silence. With the way he leaned into his hand, eyes dreamy, smile soft, he looked exactly like a girl daydreaming about her crush. Shinji felt the corners of his mouth twitch up at the thought. “What are you listening to?”

“Stuff.” Shinji slid his iPod off the table and into his pocket lest the boy try to get a glimpse of the screen. His music taste varied greatly from what was currently popular and he got enough teasing about it at school; he didn’t need it here as well. The Froth House was something of a sanctuary, a place Shinji could go not only to drink good coffee but also feel like he was part of something, even if that something was a crowd of people with a worrying caffeine addiction.

"There is a lot to listen to," the boy said agreeably. He sipped his coffee, settling back into the chair, and began humming a song; Shinji immediately recognized it as Ode to Joy.

“Do you like Beethoven?”

It wasn’t until the grey haired boy leaned forward, tilting his head slightly, and answered that Shinji realized he had voiced the question himself.

"Yes! I'm fond of his pieces, and especially playing them." There was excitement in the boy’s voice that he didn’t hide. It was quite a change from the kids at Shinji’s school, who often downplayed their interests as though liking something and being excited about it was against some sort of unwritten law.

“You play? What instrument?” Shinji popped out his other earbud and wrapped the wire loosely around his iPod before slipping it back into the safety of his pocket.

“Violin and piano, and I can get by on the flute. Do you play an instrument?” he asked.

Shinji's head bounced up and down before his brain had properly processed the question. 

"Cello," he said eagerly. It was the undercurrent of excitement in his own voice that brought him back to himself, reminded him that he was Shinji Ikari, fuck up extraordinaire, and that people didn’t talk to him for a reason—many of them, in fact. “I’m not very good, though.”

He dropped his gaze to the table and pulled his elbows close to his sides. Maybe if he made himself small enough he could disappear from view entirely.

"Well, I can’t play the cello at all! Everyone has their own talents.” 

Shinji didn’t look up, but he had a feeling if he did he’d see the other boy smiling at him still. It made him uncomfortable. He wanted to ask why, and if his face hurt from doing so. Shinji had once had to smile constantly until Misato was satisfied with a picture she was determined to hang on the wall, and his cheeks had ached for an hour afterwards. Maybe it was different if it wasn’t forced?

“I’d like to hear you play sometime,” the boy continued. “Perhaps we can duet.”

“Okay,” Shinji agreed. He knew nothing would come of this, that they were empty words, the kind of thing people say to be polite, like _you’re not so bad, Ikari, we should hang out sometime._ Still, it was nice to pretend, if only for a moment.

“Fantastic! Do you have a specific piece you’d like to play? When are you free? Would you prefer to do it at my house or wherever yours is? Or there’s a music room on campus we could use. Do you have your own cello?” 

The slew of questions caught Shinji off guard, and he found himself once again staring dumbly at the boy, whose face had positively lit up. He continued speaking but the words didn’t make much sense to Shinji in his dazed state.

“What piece would you want to play?” Shinji asked, because he didn’t want the boy getting frustrated at his lack of answers, and there seemed to be no end to the questions.

It wasn’t so bad, listening to him talk excitedly about his favorite songs and composers, Shinji thought as he took a sip of his lukewarm coffee. They even had similar tastes, which seemed to please the boy when Shinji mentioned it. It wasn’t even difficult, really, discussing music, especially when he didn’t have to worry about the conversation dying if he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

As the conversation went on Shinji found himself relaxing and responded with, if not eagerness, than at least less hesitancy to the questions the boy asked. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that he was enjoying himself. He felt very light. His fingers wrapped around the edge of his seat to keep him grounded in case he began to float away.

“I think that woman is angry with us,” the boy said, nodding in the direction of the woman behind the counter.

During their conversation The Froth House had emptied to the point that, besides the two of them, there were only three other customers. The woman scowled at him when he met her eye and Shinji didn’t understand until he glanced at his watch. He had to check that it wasn’t broken.

“We’ve been talking for three hours,” Shinji said. His voice sounded far away. He didn’t think he’d ever talked to someone for more than a few minutes at a time. Even when he ate lunch with Rei they sat in silence after their initial greeting.

More importantly—for the moment, anyway—Shinji had never spent four hours loitering in The Froth House after buying a single cup of coffee. What if they kicked him out? He didn’t think he could handle that. He needed The Froth House, and the coffee it provided, the way he needed air. He stood up quickly, pulling on his jacket, hat, scarf, and gloves. The woman watched him from the counter, appeased, and turned her attention to a girl who walked up with her wallet out.

Shinji turned to say goodbye to the odd boy, but found himself saying, “Is that all you have?”

He had slipped on a light jacket that looked suitable for spring, perhaps, but certainly not winter. He didn’t even have gloves.

“I don’t get cold very easily,” he explained as he walked towards the door. 

Shinji followed him with a frown. “Won’t you get sick?”

“I don’t get sick very easily, either,” the boy said. He sounded amused at the questions, but Shinji couldn’t bring himself to think it was unkind. He hadn’t detected anything like that the entire time he’d been in the boy’s presence.

The wind was cold and sharp as they stepped outside. Shinji shivered, glancing at his companion in disbelief as he made no indication of being affected in the least.

“Are you sure you’re human?” Shinji asked. It was probably because of his tendency to say such incredibly tactless things that people avoided talking to him for very long.

“Quite sure,” the boy responded, slipping his hands into his pockets. Shinji hesitated on the sidewalk, unsure of what to do. He didn’t sound angry, but there was something in his tone that made Shinji feel guilty.

He dropped his eyes to the ground and said, “Sorry.”

From his peripheral vision Shinji saw the boy look at him, but he kept his eyes on the ground. The fresh snow had turned into a mass of dirty slush throughout the day.

“Humans share 99.9% of their DNA,” the boy said as he began to walk. “It’s only .1% that makes us different from each other.”

Shinji hesitated, but he was still talking and it would be rude to walk away in the middle of a sentence, wouldn’t it? He hurried after the other boy, remaining half a step behind as they walked down the street. People stared openly as the boy caught their eye, and Shinji saw at least three of them do a double take. 

“I wonder what would happen if that .1 was a little bit larger,” he continued as they turned a corner. “How different would a human be then? Would they still even be human?”

Shinji didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know if the boy was even interested in an answer. He adjusted his scarf as a cold wind blew and wondered if he should offer it to the other boy, who had stopped his incessant chatter while Shinji had been thinking.

“You’re rather quiet,” the boy remarked, glancing back at him. “Am I bothering you?”

“No!” Shinji said instantly, voice embarrassingly high pitched. He took a breath to calm himself. Now would be a good time to say something like _it was nice talking to you but I have to go home and_ … And what? Do homework? Lay on his bed thinking about this strange encounter until Misato woke up and he wished her a good night at work? Write today off completely and go to sleep?

He didn’t want to go home yet.

“I’m not really used to talking to people,” Shinji finally mumbled, because he had to say something. The cold had stained his cheeks red and he was glad it hid his embarrassment.

“I understand,” the boy said. Their footsteps sounded much louder than they had before, and Shinji realized it was because they’d distanced themselves from the crowded streets. “I didn’t talk to people much either before I moved here.”

A surprised laugh filled the air for a split second before Shinji slapped a hand to his mouth. He bit down on his lip hard and hoped the boy didn’t take offense. It was just that he’d sounded so serious, saying something so absurd…

“What?” The boy looked at him again, eyebrows together in confusion.

“I—You’re joking, right?” Shinji asked uncertainly, letting his hand fall back to his side. This confused the boy further. “I mean, you just started talking to me like—like it was nothing. Even though we don’t even know each other.”

“Are you not supposed to do that?” the boy asked. Shinji stared at him for a moment, mouth open, then shook his head awkwardly. “Oh.” A beat of silence. “Do you enjoy talking to me?”

Shinji felt weirdly off-kilter and wondered, not for the first time, if this was some sort of hyper-realistic dream with a dash of surrealism thrown in just for the fun of it. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The boy nodded and smiled for reasons Shinji couldn’t fathom. They continued walking in silence, the melting snow squishing beneath their feet. Shinji snuck glances at his companion, who began humming again. The streetlamps cast a yellow glow over the world, making it appear softer and sharper all at once.

Shinji stopped walking after they turned another corner. They’d entered a residential area. Apartment buildings lined the streets and an entirely different kind of anxiety bubbled in his chest. 

“Are you okay?” The boy stopped as well. He stared with a concerned frown that eased the nervousness somewhat. He didn’t _seem_ like a murderer, at any rate. “Are you tired? Should I carry you?”

“What!?” Panic flooded through him. He willed his heartbeat to slow and succeeded a little. The cold wouldn’t explain away how incredibly red his face suddenly became, but the boy didn’t ask about it. He waited patiently for a response, and didn’t react to Shinji’s outburst. “N-no! I’m fine.”

He began walking again, hoping the other boy would take the hint, and ignored the worried, “Are you sure?” that followed him. The boy caught up easily and matched his pace.

“Have I upset you?” he asked, when no answer was forthcoming.

Shinji didn’t respond immediately. Perhaps the boy really was as hopeless at talking to people as he was? That wasn’t so bad, he decided. Maybe he wouldn’t have to worry so much about what he said if they were on equal footing.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” Shinji managed. “It’s weird.”

The boy’s mouth curled into a frown. He looked at Shinji with sad eyes. “Is weird bad?”

Shinji’s stomach twisted itself into knots as he realized that the boy, with his coloring and demeanor, had probably been called weird many times before. He’d probably been called other things, too. Worse things, and Shinji knew how cruel people could be.

“Not always,” he said. “But people don’t really like things that are different. It makes them uncomfortable.” 

Shinji didn’t think the boy was going to respond. That he’d completely and unintentionally ruined this…whatever this was. But then the boy offered, “My mother says different is what sells.”

Eager for a change of topic that was less likely to be disastrous, Shinji asked, “What does she do?”

"She works with genetics and biotechnology. She's really good at it." Pride laced his voice and Shinji smiled at it.

The boy turned sharply and led them up the stairs of a brick building, holding the door open for Shinji as he said, “Her favorite is messing around with the more ambiguous genes. There are genes that don't seem to be linked to anything at all! She is also very good at figuring out what precisely needs to be changed.”

Shinji listened to the boy babble about genes and DNA as they walked up two flights of stairs. He didn’t understand most of it, but it was pleasant to watch him talk, and listen to the way his words sped up when he reached a point that he was especially interested in. He’d enjoyed this when they were at The Froth House too, when the boy had gone on about music, though Shinji had been able to participate in that discussion beyond _that’s interesting, oh really,_ and _I didn’t know that._

A streak of black slipping around the corner caught Shinji’s eye and the boy announced, “We’re here!”

He slipped a key into the lock and unzipped his jacket as he entered. Shinji hesitated at the doorway, uncertainty returning to him tenfold. Maybe he should just go home after all.

“You can hang your coat up in the closet if you want,” the boy called from inside. Shinji gathered his courage and stepped inside.

The apartment was small, and very white. Shinji shoved his hat, gloves, and scarf into his coat pocket and hung it up carefully in the closet next to the door. He toed off his shoes and ventured further in, noting that the boy had tossed his jacket over a chair. He heard shuffling from what he assumed was the kitchen as he glanced around.

“Did you just move in?” Shinji called, raising an eyebrow at the labels scrawled across the boxes littering the room. _Things that sing. Things that float. Purple._

“Yes,” came the answer from directly behind him, and Shinji nearly pissed himself. He narrowly avoided spraining his ankle as he spun around, eyes wide and heart pounding.

The boy offered a sheepish grin, taking a step back. “Sorry for startling you. Would you like some hot chocolate?”

Shinji accepted the offered mug and took a sip, letting the warmth calm him. Hot chocolate wasn’t as good as coffee, but few things were. The boy took his own sip while he walked over to an end table. He sat down on it, legs crossed, and looked at Shinji expectantly.

What could he possibly say in this situation? 

“Thanks,” Shinji managed, but it came out squeaky. He cleared his throat, tried not to blush, and added, “For the hot chocolate.”

“You’re welcome.” The boy sounded quite pleased. “You can sit down.”

Sitting was better than standing around awkwardly, Shinji thought. He didn’t want to insult his host by sitting the furthest possible away, but he couldn’t bring himself to plop down on the cushion closest to the table. He compromised by sitting in the middle of the couch.

The silence was overwhelming, and the way the boy slurped when he took a drink only made it worse.

“Do you live by yourself?” Shinji asked before it could stretch too long.

“Yes. I applied late so there weren’t any available dorms.”

“You go to the university?” He sounded more skeptical than he’d meant to. Shinji had assumed the boy was his age but, taking another quick glance at his face, realized he could be anywhere from fifteen to twenty five. Did he get lonely, living by himself? At least Shinji had Misato. Sometimes.

“Yes. My mother wanted me to attend school closer to home, but I have family here I’d like to see.” He took a drink of his hot chocolate and stood up, moving over to a pile of boxes. Shinji didn’t see which one he shuffled through. When he came back, a deck of cards was in his hand. “Would you like to see a magic trick?”

“Uh, sure.” For a very brief period in fifth grade Shinji had been obsessed with magic tricks. It was fun, and had even won him some interest from his classmates. Then his uncle found the battered box emblazoned with _Beginner’s Magic Kit!_ in his backpack, and he tried not to think too much about that.

“Great!” The boy sat on the coffee table this time. He shook his hair out of his eyes and took out the cards. He shuffled them quickly, half the deck in each hand the way Shinji had never managed to teach himself. He spread them out and said, “Pick a card. Don’t show it to me.”

Shinji chose one near the bottom. The ace of clubs. He placed it on the top of the deck, as instructed.

“Now you cut the deck.” The boy handed him the cards with a smile. Their fingers brushed. When Shinji handed them back he was careful that it didn’t happen again.

“I’m going to need some assistance for this, so hold on.” He was confused when the boy searched through the deck and held up two jacks. 

“These guys are going to help me,” the boy said. Shinji covered his smile with his hand.

He placed one on top of the deck and the other on the bottom. 

“Are you ready? I’m about to find your card.” The deck jumped from one hand to the other, but the jacks remained. He slipped a card out from between them and flipped it around. “Ace of clubs?”

Startled laughter fell from his lips and, despite knowing an answer would not be given, he asked, “How did you do that?”

Instead of the usual _a magician can never reveal his secrets,_ the boy replied, “I can teach you, if you’d like. But you can’t show anyone else, okay?”

Shinji nodded quickly, surprised, and he started explaining. The process was stalled somewhat when he had to admit that, no, he didn’t know how to shuffle like that, but the boy showed him how to do that, too. He didn’t even get mad when the cards flew everywhere, but that didn’t stop Shinji from turning red and apologizing profusely. 

He was in the middle of his third trick again when a strange beeping noise filled the air. Shinji paused and looked around curiously, but couldn’t place where it was coming from. 

“I think your phone is ringing,” the boy said, amused. 

Shinji scrambled to pull it from his pocket. Misato’s name greeted him and he anxiously answered.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“I should be asking you that!” Misato’s voice was equal parts concern and annoyance. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m fine. I’m, uh, heading home right now.” He glanced at the boy to see a quick flash of disappointment cross his face, then at his watch, and he wasn’t sure which was more surprising. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” Misato yawned. “Get home safe.”

He hung up and slipped his phone back in his pocket. He placed the deck of cards on the table and stood without looking at his host. He didn’t want to go home. He had school tomorrow and he was exhausted, but by the time he got home Misato would be gone, and today, despite its awful beginning, had been sort of fun.

“I should get going,” he said. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome. 

“You should keep this,” the boy handed him the deck of cards as he too stood, “to practice.”

“Thanks,” Shinji said. He put on his shoes and grabbed his coat from the closet. His hand was resting on the doorknob when the boy spoke again.

“Well, I had fun. You can come over any time you want.” He smiled as Shinji turned to stare. “And If I’m not here there’s a spare key above the doorframe, on the right side.”

Shinji bit back the urge to say _you really shouldn’t go around telling strangers that._ “Uh, okay. Thanks.”

Then he was out the door, down the stairs, slipping his gloves on as he jogged down the street with red cheeks and a rapid heartbeat.

He calmed down by the time he reached his apartment. He hung up his coat and cleaned up the mess Misato had made on her hurried way out. She’d probably slept late without him to wake her, he realized guiltily. He pulled out the box of cards as he climbed into bed, determined to get the last trick right at least once before going to sleep.

A slip of paper came out with them, to his surprise. He smiled slightly and slipped it back inside the box, turning his attention instead to the cards.

_Kaworu Nagisa_

_622-583-4968_

_4219 Cloud St., Apartment 317_


	2. It Gets Better

Shinji had almost called Kaworu Nagisa seven times. He didn't need the scrap of paper anymore; his fingers alone could dial the number. He had gotten as far as listening to it ring once, twice—then he snapped his phone shut and buried his head in his hands. After school he sat in The Froth House and tried to read. He looked up every time the door swung open, only to be greeted by disappointment.

He’d considered retracing the path they'd taken and knocking on the door. He could use the spare key above the doorframe and offer a hello. He had gone home instead, done his homework, and went to sleep.

Three days had passed since he had met Kaworu Nagisa, and nothing had changed.

 _It's kind of pathetic to think about him so much,_ Shinji reflected as he halfheartedly took notes. What had happened, really? He had followed a stranger home and learned some magic tricks. Now he was too much of a coward to even call and say _Hey, what's up? Are you busy?_

Even so, he couldn't get their conversation out of his head. If he had, it would have at least kept the embarrassment away as well. On reflection, nerves had made him a huge spazz. Kaworu had probably come to the same conclusion, and regretted giving out his number. Or, even worse, maybe he had only given it out of pity in the first place.

If he ever did talk to Kaworu again, at least he would have something to say about his question.

He had thought a lot about the things Kaworu had said. _Would they still even be human?_ He had done some research and decided; yes, they would still be human even if there were more genetic differences. His reasons behind this were hard to sort out, so he had written them down. Now there was something resembling an essay outline scribbled in his math notebook.

The bell rang and Shinji made his way to third period, slipping around his peers as they met up with their friends in the hallway. He’d once found the courage to talk to Rei in the halls, but all she’d said was, “We'll be late to class.” Now Shinji waved when he saw her and she nodded back.

He had History this period. Mr. Barris was sick, so there was a substitute. Shinji heard excited whispers. They grew louder when he announced that they were to use the hour to review the topics covered the past two weeks.

He watched as the others gravitated towards their friends. Desks and chairs scraped against the floor as and the air was filled with the delighted sounds of teenagers not doing work. Scraps of conversation reached Shinji's ears.

"She really ate that?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"I wish I'd gotten something better than socks, at least."

Sometimes he wondered if there was something wrong with him, an awful birth defect that people sensed the way animals sensed earthquakes. Sometimes he was certain of it; he watched his peers interact in a way he never had and knew the answer.

But no. Dr. Deandra, a woman with a hard plastic smile, had told him it wasn't true. She had told him over and over and praised him when he repeated it back to her, small fingers crossed guiltily behind his back. It had been terrifying back then. He'd been taken away from his aunt and uncle and placed with Misato. Even now he remembered the fear that she would hand him to someone else.

His thoughts were interrupted by something bouncing off the side of his head. He looked down to see a ball of paper sitting near his feet.

“Sorry!” Kensuke called from across the room as he adjusted his glasses. “That was meant for him.”

He pointed to Toji, a tall boy with dark hair, who offered an apologetic grin.

Shinji threw it back and Toji caught it easily. He pulled his iPod out of his pocket and watched them from the corner of his eye. Last year, after a mishap in gym, he had thought that the three of them might become friends, but Toji and Kensuke already had plenty of those to occupy their time.

Toji said something that amused the other students. Kensuke turned his camera on a laughing girl and asked a question that made her roll her eyes. The substitute teacher was content to let the class do as they pleased so long as no bones were broken and nothing caught fire.

Shinji worked on his homework while pretending he wasn't paying attention to his classmate's antics. The constant attempts to throw paper balls at friends’ heads, with little success. The occasional loud remark from the corner. But, no matter how intently he listened, there was no one weaving between the desks, smiling and snarling in the same breath. He wasn't sure if school was better or worse for Asuka's absence. He wasn’t called an idiot in public anymore, but that meant he wasn’t called anything at all. _I miss her,_ he realized. It was a strange thought.

When enzymes and eukaryotes started blurring together he gave up on homework. He stared out the window instead. Perhaps, after stopping by The Froth House, he would gather his courage and go over to Kaworu’s...

After history was math and then—finally—lunch. Getting to the cafeteria was always a difficult battle, but more so than ever on Fridays. Shinji allowed himself to be bumped and nudged along with the mass of students. At least he’d spent extra time making lunch last night, so he didn’t have wait in line.

He spotted blue hair and made his way over to Rei. The table was empty except for her, but this wasn’t exactly unusual. She held a book in one hand and used the other to eat. It was a skill Shinji admired but had never mastered; he always wound up missing his mouth.

“Hey,” he greeted as he took a seat and pulled out his food. She raised her eyes—like Kaworu's, but lighter—and nodded at him. She returned to reading; Shinji picked at his lunch. Perhaps going over to Kaworu's apartment after school wasn't such a good idea. He would probably be busy, or out, or just not want company.

 _I should call instead,_ Shinji thought. He sighed and nudged his food into a spiral shape. _But every time I try..._

His throat closed up every time he held the phone to his ear. His hands shook. He felt kind of nauseated.

He sighed again.

“Is everything alright?” Rei asked.

Shinji jumped at the sound of her voice. His knee hit something hard under the table and he bit back a curse. He gnawed at his lip as he met Rei’s stare. The question threw him off. Even when they did talk it was always about a book they finished or a song they heard, and usually consisted of 'you might like this' and 'okay, thanks.' It had been that way ever since they met.

It started the first day of high school, after he'd upset Asuka by... existing, probably. He couldn't remember anymore. He fled, her shouts following him down the hall. When he turned a corner he slammed into the pale girl and they fell to the floor in a compromising position. Before he could do anything but splutter and turn red, Toji valiantly yanked Shinji to his feet and punched him in the face. Kensuke got it on camera.

He didn't get a chance to explain until two weeks later, when he found her sitting alone at lunch. She listened calmly as he stuttered his way through an apology and said, “You can sit down.”

They ate lunch together every day after that.

“I ran into this guy a few days ago,” he finally said.

“What did he do?” Her voice remained bland but her eyes narrowed marginally.

"He—well, he talked to me," Shinji said, realizing as the words left his mouth how stupid they sounded. "He just sat down and talked about music and stuff. And he told me about where he keeps his spare key. Who tells strangers stuff like that?"

He snapped his mouth shut, teeth clicking together. Rei would probably leave after hearing him say more than he’d ever managed in one of their conversations. She didn't move to stand, though, and Shinji breathed a breath of relief.

“Some people are very trusting.” She stared at him as she spoke, but it didn't make him as uncomfortable as it used to.

Shinji nodded like he understood. He captured his lip between his teeth and glanced at her. Was it okay for him to continue? She didn't return to her book, so hopefully it was.

“He taught me magic tricks.” Confusion made his voice soft. It was almost lost in the noise of the cafeteria.

Silence stretched between them as Rei continued staring. Shinji picked at his nails under the table.

“What were they?” Rei asked. Shinji jumped again.

“I could show you, if you'd like?” he said.

She nodded, eyes only leaving his face when he pulled the box out of his pocket. He took the cards out, careful that the slip of paper with Kaworu’s number remained unseen. He shuffled the deck, fingers shaking from nerves, and fanned them out.

“Pick one,” he prompted.

She took the second from the left and looked at her card.

“Okay—“ He was interrupted by Toji plopping down next to Rei. Kensuke joined him, camera in hand.

“What’s going on?” Toji asked, peering at the card in Rei’s hand.

“You guys never talk,” Kensuke said, pointing his camera at Shinji. “What’s up?”

Shinji shifted uncomfortably. “I was showing Rei a magic trick.”

Toji nodded. “Well, let’s see it.”

“Uh, yeah. Right,” Shinji turned his attention back to Rei, failing to ignore the camera and eyes on him. His mouth felt dry. “Put it back anywhere.”

Rei put the card back in the same spot. Shinji shuffled the deck, trying to keep his hands steady, and sent the cards jumping from one hand to the other the way Kaworu had patiently taught him. He almost messed up, but Toji looked impressed at least.

Shinji handed the top card to Rei and said, “Is this it?”

“No.”

Toji let out a laugh. “Sorry, man.”

“My mistake. Turn it around.” Shinji’s lips twitched.

Rei did so, and Shinji thought he might have saw the beginnings of a smile on her face as she reported, “It’s the right one.”

“How’d you do that?” Kensuke demanded, swinging the camera away from the cards and back to Shinji’s face. He shrugged, embarrassed, but a warm feeling spread through him. 

The bell rang, ending the conversation.

“Thanks,” he told Rei quietly as they left the cafeteria. He knew that she didn’t like to talk much, but he felt a bit better than he had that morning.

"You're welcome." The corners of her mouth seemed to rise for a second, but she turned and headed for her class before he was certain.

Shinji had trouble concentrating in his classes after lunch. He kept remembering Rei's almost-smile, Kensuke's delighted confusion, Toji's impressed grin. He felt pleased with himself. He felt _giddy._

When the final bell rang he dawdled by his locker as usual and walked slowly through the hall, keeping close to the wall to avoid upsetting students eager to flee the building. Rei had Chemistry eighth period so it took her awhile to reach her locker and gather her stuff after class. But Shinji had perfected his timing and walked by just as Rei closed her locker and they fell into step. Shinji grinned at her, and if she found it strange she didn't show it. 

“Hey, Shinji!” 

Shinji turned, startled. Kensuke smiled at him.

“Hey,” Shinji greeted, unable to keep the confusion out of his voice. Rei had stopped with him and he glanced at her, searching her blank face for any signs of annoyance.

“You'll show us more tricks tomorrow, right? I'm thinking of making a video with them,” Kensuke said.

“Yeah, sure,” Shinji replied. “I only know a few, though.”

“Cool. I'll see you later!” With that he darted off, disappearing in the crowd of students.

Shinji and Rei walked out of the building and down the street, the sounds of their peers falling quiet behind them. When they reached the corner he said, “See you tomorrow.”

Rei only nodded as she entered her apartment building.

Shinji walked to the bus stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shinji you shouldn't talk to strange men in coffee shops: the novel  
> Shinji don't follow strange men home: the gripping sequel  
> Jesus Christ Shinji just fucking call him already: the thrilling conclusion
> 
> This and the previous chapter were written by RetroRabbit and beta'd by RandomTiger. RandomTiger will be writing the next chapter.


	3. Six is (not) a good time for feelings

Kaworu lies in the apartment’s living room. He just finished his last math problem, which is good. It frees his brain for other thoughts. This isn't good. Not when his thoughts are about his hunger, work, and failed attempt at friendship.

Kaworu had been so certain he’d done everything right. They hadn’t fought at all. The boy had smiled at his magic tricks. He’d offered hot chocolate. The boy _accepted_ hot chocolate. He doesn’t know what else he could have done.

He had thought the coffee boy would contact him in a week, but he hasn’t received anything for thirteen days. That makes him just as anxious now as he was seven days ago. And he’s _still_ hungry. He listens for footsteps in the silence— the one good thing about the lack of soundproofing here. He’s never caught by surprise when Johann visits.

When he hears the delicate patter of footsteps he checks for his wallet again to pass the seconds. It’s right here, a tiny piano wallet holding all the money he needs. He isn’t used to having one, but the weight is pleasant.

He waits for a knock.

It doesn’t come. But the footsteps haven’t moved on, and he doesn’t guess wrong about these things. He avoids the piles of boxes—he still hasn't gotten around to unpacking much yet—on his way to the door. It swings open with more force than necessary, though Kaworu doesn’t notice. He's too busy staring at the person before him.

 “Hey,” the coffee boy says. He refuses to raise his eyes from his feet for more than a few seconds. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, even though they’re indoors.

“Hello! It’s good to see you here.” Just because Kaworu’s shocked doesn’t mean he can’t respond.

“You too,” the boy mumbles to Kaworu. Or possibly his shoes. His worn boots toe at the beige carpet that lines the hall.

“I didn’t know if you’d forgotten to call or not,” Kaworu remarks as he opens the door wider. He steps back when the boy hesitates so he doesn’t have to squeeze past him.

The boy's face is as red as his eyes aren’t when he finally crosses over into the apartment. “You’re kind of hard to forget,” he remarks, shucking his shoes off.

That could mean a lot of things. Kaworu remembers the excitement in the boy’s face as he showed him the card tricks, and crushes the insecurities with practiced ease. He has no mercy for them; they’ll just come back again, stronger than before if he gives them a millimeter. He distracts himself by returning his attention to the visitor.

“I’m glad to hear that!” Kaworu says. “I do hope it’s a good kind of distinct. Then again, you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” He suppresses the urge to giggle nervously.

He pauses as the boy takes off his coat. He has a dress shirt on underneath it, thin and bleached white. He’d expected a sweater under there, like it had been at the coffee shop. The weather has only gotten colder, to the point Kaworu’s surrendered and worn his thick purple coat. _Formal occasion, maybe?_ There’s plenty of reasons to wear a shirt like that, but it’s no less confusing.

“What brings you here, specifically?” he asks. The boy is a shock of browns and blues against the white apartment; it makes Kaworu smile.

The coffee boy chews on his swollen lip for a tense moment.  “I’m sorry I just showed up. I don’t really want to go home right now, but I’ll leave if you-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupts. It reminds him of how his own anxiety nibbles at him, from time to time. The tension disappears, only to return to new creases in the boy’s forehead. “How has your week been?”

“Good.” Kaworu watches closely. Maybe he can divine the truth in the way the coffee boy's eyes dart away.

“Mine has gone well. I got a lot of work done!” he tells the boy. “There was some stuff I already knew. But there are so many new terms! Luckily my partner is quite good at them. She’s not afraid to tell me when they’re mixed up.” Or anything else for that matter. She was quite straightforward about what there was to do.

“What kind of terms?” the boy asks. Kaworu straightens as he recites them, and soon enough there’s contentment on the boy’s face. It’s satisfying to see it there, but he does want his own question answered.

“Could you tell me why you’re wearing a dress shirt, please? I’m curious.”

The silence grows as he waits.

“I. Well.” Kaworu thought it was the simplest of the questions, but evidently not. He wouldn’t have known if he hadn’t asked, but that doesn’t stop him from regretting the tension strung through the boy’s frame.

“I had an appointment this morning.”

“Who was it with?”

“My father.” The boy’s gaze darkens as he stares off into the air. Not a happy thought, then. Kaworu is uncertain, for a long moment, whether or not to continue. The boy chooses for him.

“He was supposed to be there. But he just... He didn’t bother showing up. It wasn’t even for me. I only expected to see him today because mom died.” The boy glares at empty space.

Kaworu wants to say something, maybe reassure him that there was some greater circumstance.

“I thought he really loved her, too. Even if he hated me I was sure that he’d still come!” the boy spits out. There's anger there. Hysteria. Fear. Kaworu knows his own face has gone blank, transformed from its usual cheer to a mask. He tries to twist it into a genuine smile.

“Could you please be a little quieter? There’s not much soundproofing,” Kaworu says, and that seems to snap him out of it.

“Sorry.” The boy’s face distorts, and he grows aware of his hands. Kaworu can’t say if those four raw marks on his palms were always there. The sight fills Kaworu with dense pity; he moves closer.

“Is it okay if I hug you?” he asks.

Blue eyes widen. The boy shakes his head ferociously, a mouth opened and closed before more words pour out. Kaworu averts his eyes for a long moment, lost in his own thoughts.

_That’s okay, no problem._

_Why don’t you want a hug?_

_What do you need?_

He doesn’t want to make it more awkward, though the rejection makes him suddenly aware of their closeness. He steps back once, twice, and laughs, like he’s the hysterical one, but then he’s smiling again, moving forward. If he can’t move on, he’s only running backwards.

 “What’s your name? I don’t believe I got it,” Kaworu asks. The creases in coffee boy’s forehead disappear, like they hid in the red that flushes his cheeks.

“Oh. Uh. My name’s Shinji. Shinji Ikari.”

“That’s a nice name.” Kaworu says.

“Thanks.” It is, but the remark can’t fill the silence that stretches, an infinitely thin piece of gum.

It breaks with the stomping outside, distracting him from Shinji Ikari. He hasn’t been so relieved for a delivery since last June, when he hadn’t seen Angie for four days straight. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“I’ll get that!” he says, then runs to the door in the stiff way that he usually reserves for school hallways.

The pizza deliverer is surprised to see such a wide grin on his face. His wallet is in his hands; he plucks some money from it.

“It was one small anchovy pizza, right?” he asks, glancing up momentarily at her face.

“Yes. That’ll be seven dollars and eighty three cents.”

He counts out sixteen dollars.

“Have a good day,” he adds, smiling and closing the door, pizza in hand. It’s a relief to have something to do that’s less awkward than trying to figure out how to aid Shinji. Looking through the peep hole shows him a confused smile.

Feeling much more in control, he returns to the bo- Shinji. Shinji Ikari.

“Shinji, Shinji, Shinji.” Kaworu chants under his breath. He returns to the living room to see Shinji looking just as awkward as before.

“The pizza’s here! You can have some if you want. Are you okay with anchovies?” he asks as he approaches the kitchen. He’s contemplating opening the box now, but it’s better if he puts it down. Spilling it would suck.

Once he gets there, he wastes no time stuffing his mouth. While he chews contentedly, he notices something wrong. Shinji isn’t with him.

He spots Shinji still lingering near the door. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, and Kaworu stops partway through to get up, swallowing as he walks.

“There’s a seat over here,” he announces, gesturing to the table. It’s more of a counter than anything else, linoleum spread over still-empty cabinets, but there are some seats nearby and enough space for them and the box.

Shinji shuffles over quickly, more intent on the table than the food. Kaworu hears another sound before he’s seated again. This time he knows exactly who the footsteps belong to. He darts to the door.

“Hey Johann!” When he opens the door it’s like he’s assaulting it, the way he swings it open and then stops it from slamming into the wall. A glance at Shinji shows that he’s staring into space, but when Johann jumps on the table the distance disappears.

Kaworu smiles as Shinji’s hand hovers over the table, like he thinks Johann’s a biter. Johann’s kept him very good company these quiet weeks.

“I’ll get out the utensils!” Kaworu announces, since that’s probably why Shinji hasn’t touched the pizza yet. And plates, he needs plates. Kaworu doesn’t want them himself, but it’s not like Shinji knows where they are. He digs them out from their box. It's marked only with the word 'utensils', and if he didn't need spoons to stir burning liquid it'd still be taped up neatly. He returns and passes them to Shinji. Satisfied, he takes a seat and grabs a slice of pizza.

Kaworu glances up with his mouth full of cheese when he realizes Shinji is not eating. He is holding the utensils up like he’s inspecting them. Blue eyes dart between them and Kaworu. Shinji’s eyebrows crease, then he slices a chunk off the pizza. He’s still watching Kaworu when he starts eating, sneaking glances in between bites.

He eats two more slices, but picks the anchovies off and feeds them to Johann. Shinji watches him, then attempts to feed the cat himself. Johann purrs as he licks Shinji’s fingers, but he soon abandons them when they lack the delicious pizza grease.

Kaworu’s appetite quickly fades, and his attention shifts to Johann. The cat sheds black fur as Kaworu pets him, but he doesn't mind. Shinji keeps glancing at Kaworu, but he’s still eating, so Kaworu doesn’t interrupt wide-eyed stares with conversation. He sometimes looks up to watch as Shinji cuts his slice up, eating them in haphazard strips. He must be searching Kaworu’s expression for _something_ , but it’s hard to say what.

“Do you want me to show you some more magic tricks?” Kaworu asks after Shinji finishes his second slice. The mental list he’d made after meeting Shinji could still be useful!

“Yeah! I mean, yes. Please.” Success is especially nice when it’s written in the curve of Shinji’s face.

“Just let me get out my cards, then.” He has more than one set. He has pirates, gems, dogs, angels, even fairy tales, but his favorites are five different sets of “regular” cards. Each brand has a slightly different version. There is no normal.

“You don’t need to do that! I still have my cards. I mean, the ones you gave me,” Shinji says. Kaworu didn’t think that he’d still have them. He pulls the box out of his pocket. There are scratches that weren’t on it before. One of the corners is wrinkled. “I’ve been practicing a lot,” he explains hastily.

“That’s great! Could you show me what you’ve done?” Kaworu asks. He pushes the box of pizza and Shinji's plate to the side.

“Yeah.” Shinji hesitates as he takes the cards out and shuffles them. The trick Shinji performs isn’t the one Kaworu taught him; he didn’t expect that, but he watches Shinji’s hands. They broadcast their intent however he tries to hide it. They are showing him a trick, careful and still shaky, and grab a card that almost falls to the floor.

“Thanks for showing me. It was a nice trick.” When Kaworu smiles there’s only honesty, but Shinji clenches at his card anyways.

“You don’t have to make fun of me.” He is back to avoiding his eyes, low mutters, and it feels like Kaworu’s missed something, but he searches for it anyways. It… Maybe Shinji doesn’t like the trick he chose? Kaworu does. It’s pleasant to watch someone else do them, and interesting to see a different trick, and…

“I’m not making fun of you. I liked the trick.”

“Oh.” Shinji doesn’t seem to know what to say, but their eyes meet again. Kaworu smiles, as much to calm himself as to calm Shinji.

“Do you want to watch some movies?” Kaworu is staring. Shinji’s eyes drift away and return to his gaze sporadically.

“Uh, sure. What movies do you have?”

“A lot of movies! Do you have a preference? There are a lot of happy movies here, but there are some other ones if you don’t want to watch that.” Kaworu’s already made his way to the box marked _For a Good Time_ , and rummages through it. He hears the sound of a chair being pushed back, the rustling of clothes, quiet footsteps.

“No, happy sounds good...” Shinji trails off into silence, and looking back at the kitchen only reveals hesitance, but his feet are planted loosely. More lost than anything else, if Kaworu had to guess.

“I suggest… Hm.” No amount of thought could tell him which movie to pick, so instead he gestures for Shinji to come closer, a bit wildly. “What do you think?”

Shinji doesn’t seem to know what to do with them, either. His hands trace the cases, but they don’t linger on any. It’s endearing, somehow. “I think this one will work?” he says, pulling out _The Emperor’s New Groove._

“Oh! I like that one.” Kaworu grins. It’s a good choice! Any would be a good choice, but he’s fond of that one. It’s garish and ridiculous and great, and there aren’t any parts that are sad. That wouldn’t be very good for company.

“What’s your favorite movie, anyways?” he asks, curious. Shinji’s lips are bitten again. Maybe he could use some gum? He doesn’t have any, though, so that’s pointless. Kaworu perches on the armrest, letting long legs dangle to the floor. Shinji sits on the other end of the couch. His eyes watch the floor, not the commercials as the DVD starts up.

“I don’t have one,” he finally admits.

 “Oh.” Kaworu glances at Shinji, then at his own hands. He wipes them on his pants, although there’s nothing to wipe off.

The movie starts kicking into gear, and Kaworu watches, looking occasionally at Shinji to see what he thinks. He’s intent at first, but too tense to be relaxing. Eventually a glance reveals that he isn’t focused on the movie at all. He’s watching the blanket like he has a crush on it, but he hasn’t picked it up.

“Excuse me,” Kaworu interjects. Shinji turns his attention to him immediately, and Kaworu smiles. “Let me get that.” He stretches from his perch to reach the thick blanket draped over the back, then settles on the couch cushion with it. He lays it across the middle cushion, and sticks his toes under it. “You can use it, if you want.”

“Thanks.” Shinji sticks more of his body under it. He practically migrates to the middle cushion, and his shivering subsides. Kaworu removes his toes from the blanket when Shinji’s more concerned with watching the movie. He isn’t cold himself, but Shinji doesn’t seem comfortable asking for things.  He can’t quite force himself to ask for things, either. Luckily he hasn’t had to put it into practice. At least, not besides that hug.

_I thought that blankets were something that people could just take. I guess not._

When the first movie ends, Kaworu is reluctant to get up. He wants popcorn, but he’s more interested in talking. Shinji is looking at him now, no longer curled up for warmth.

“Squirrels don’t behave like that, but it was pretty funny,” Kaworu sighs as the credits roll. Shinji glances over at him, finds Kaworu turning to meet him.

“What do they behave like, then?”

"Is studying squirrels a habit of yours?"

Kaworu smiles. "Not really. I was able to study one I found in the woods up close. When I was little."

"I thought squirrels were skittish? It didn't run away?"

“It was probably skittish. It was just also dead.”

 “Uh. You touched a dead squirrel.”

“Yes! I did. At first I just thought it was poop though.” Kaworu reassures him.

“You thought it was poop.” Shinji’s voice has gone flat.

“Yes. I had just learned that owls leave the entire skeleton intact, so I was looking for owl pellets. They aren’t as gross as you’d think. They’re really pretty tidy. I did clean it up afterwards! It looked very interesting.”

Shinji seems to have lost the ability to respond. Kaworu doesn’t notice.

“Well, the hardest part was trying to get the bones wired correctly. I would have tried to glue them, but Mom said that I shouldn’t do that. She’s probably right. I’d have gotten glue everywhere. I might be able to do it now, though. I haven’t found any more, so I don’t know.” Kaworu’s head rests in neatly folded arms, staring off at some point in past years. He has a small smile, and his dreaming eyes stare at some point a long time ago.

Shinjii awkwardly shifted in his seat, eyes scanning the room. They land on a small pile of textbooks.

“So, you’re in college.” Shinji says.

“Yes, I just got in this semester.” Kaworu takes to the new subject easily, and it fills the void between getting popcorn and choosing the next movie.

Through three more movies, Shinji’s eyes drift shut. He’s still clutching the blanket around him. Kaworu watches, for a few minutes, then gets out his homework and does it to the sound of gentle snoring until his own eyes grow heavy.

When he warms under his own covers, he falls asleep far more quickly than he thought he would.

/\/\/\/\/\

Kaworu’s morning is like a crescendo, growing louder and louder. Unlike a crescendo, it takes an hour or so to kick into action.

 _I slept… four hours._ That assumes he went to sleep immediately, but Kaworu is optimistic.

He treads to the kitchen. Toast is even less appealing than usual when there’s pizza, so he opens the box. His mouth holds it while he gets out a plate, and he hums as he taps in the time.

“Mrrow. Meow. Rowowor.”  He reaches down to pet Johann, but the cat only darts to the door. Kaworu cheerfully lets him out to wander the halls. He pushes the door shut with his foot.

_He did like anchovies, like movie cats. I wonder-_

There’s a thud. It takes a moment for Kaworu’s sleep deprived brain to catch up; before he can turn around Shinji’s already scrambled to his feet. Hm. He smiles at him, an attempt at reassurance. He hasn’t rolled off any beds himself, but that probably hurt.

“Would you like some breakfast?”

“Who- What time is it?” Shinji asks urgently. His shirt is wrinkled. There’s a line of dried drool on his chin.

“It is- 5:32.” Kaworu tilts his head. _Shinji’s hurrying because... he’s hurrying because..._

“Oh no.” Before Kaworu can ask for an explanation, Shinji is already forcing his boots on his feet.

 _Wait. He needs his coat._ Kaworu retrieves it. “Shinji.”

“Oh. Thanks.” For the first time since he fell off the couch, Shinji looks him in the eyes. “Gotta go or I’ll be late. Sorry. Thanks.”

“Thanks for visiting,” Kaworu says without heat, but Shinji is already gone. He flips the television on, but everything on it slips through his mind. He gives up at 5:44, paces around in thought.

He pulls on his coat, buttons the middle, and goes for a walk, just because he can.

When he returns he doesn’t expect the gloves that sit under the couch, or the scarf hidden in a crevice. He picks them up, and places them in a pile on the table.

 _Shinji’ll have to come back for his things._ He considers this, uncertain of his feelings on the matter. Six is not a good time for feelings, but it’s better than five.

_Next time I’ll remember to ask what his number is._


End file.
